One Hundred Love Stories
by Ryeloza
Summary: A series of one-shot stories featuring a variety of couples on the show.  Chapter two: Justin and Bree talk about Andrew.  Set toward the end of season 2.
1. Romance

**Disclaimer: **I have absolutely no claim to _Desperate Housewives_ and I'm not doing this for any kind of profit.

**A/n: **I came across a livejournal community tonight called Lover 100 Fanfic Challenge; they give you 100 prompts to write about a pairing(s) in any fandom. So I decided to take advantage of the challenge and of course I'm doing _Desperate Housewives_. I have no idea how long it will take me to write 100 stories, but I figure it'll be fun. I plan on covering a variety of pairings (though I tend to stick with canonical ones), so hopefully there will be something for just about everyone. No matter if you read just one or all of them, I really hope you enjoy it.

**Chapter Summary: **Susan issues a romantic challenge for the women of Wisteria Lane. Takes place soon after the season four finale (in other words, before the 5-year-jump).

**One Hundred Love Stories**

By **Ryeloza**

**One: Romance**

**Part One: Susan's Challenge**

"Susan, what is this?"

Susan's eyes got huge and she made a lunge for the book in Gaby's hand. "Nothing!" she yelped, tripping in her hurry to get the book. Unfortunately, the slip-up gave Lynette ample time to snap the paperback from Gaby's hand before Susan could.

"_Romantic Challenge: Keeping the Romance Alive in Your Marriage_," she read. A smile twitched at the corners of her mouth as she turned the book over to glance at the back cover. "You've been married a year. Don't tell me the romance is gone already."

"It was an anniversary present."

Gaby, who had just taken a sip of wine, choked as she started to laugh. Lynette gave her a couple of hearty slaps on the back while Gaby slowly regained control of herself. "From Mike?" she managed to gasp between coughs.

"To Mike. From me."

"I think you mean from you to you."

"Fine," said Susan, throwing up her hands and taking a seat. "Go ahead. Get in your knocks. But I'll tell you right now, that book is a godsend."

"What is it exactly?" asked Bree.

Susan shrugged. "Different activities. Mike and I do one every night. Sometimes it's questions about your relationship or romantic things to do together or—"

"Sex tips?" Lynette had opened to a random page and her head was cocked to the side as she examined a picture in frank curiosity. Gaby leaned over to steal a peek and smirked. "Been there. Done that."

"Well of course you have," said Bree. Lynette turned the book to show her the picture and she frowned. "Oh. Well, yes. Who hasn't been there?"

Fed up, Susan reached out and grabbed the book from her friends, snapping it shut and hugging it to her chest. "Come on," she said. "You guys know what it's like. You get married, you have a kid…things change. It happened with Karl."

Bree reached out a hand that Susan took gratefully. "Mike isn't Karl, sweetie."

"I know. But this can only help, you know?"

"All right," Gaby acquiesced. "Fine. So lay something on us."

"Huh?"

"If it's such a miracle book, give us something fun to do tonight. Preferably one of the sex ones."

Susan's eyes lit up. "Really? Are you serious?" Before any of them could respond, she started to flip through the pages of the book, completely missing the dirty looks Lynette and Bree gave Gaby. "Oh here! This one is great! 'Write your husband a love note and hide it somewhere unexpected for him to find.'"

"That's not sexy."

"No, it's _romantic_. I did one for Mike and…I don't know. It made me feel good and he was thrilled when he found it. Guys like this stuff too, you know." Susan looked around at them with the most unpleasant sense that they weren't taking her seriously. As usual, she felt like the romantic bumbler in the group, even though the years had proved that her friends had just as many problems in that department. Unable to keep the hint of bitterness from her voice, she said, "It wouldn't hurt to try it."

"You're right," said Bree compassionately. Susan was slightly surprised, given that she and Orson were still in a deadlock about his inability to confess to the hit and run. "We'll do it."

"Can't we just buy them roses instead?" joked Lynette. Bree gave her a pointed look and she sighed. "Sure. Okay."

Gaby shrugged. "Well you girls have fun with that."

"Gaby!"

"What? Blind husband, remember? He's not reading anything I write."

"Oh," said Susan. "Well…"

"Use a tape recorder," Lynette interrupted. "I have one you can borrow if you want."

"Gee, thanks, Lynette. You're the best."

Susan grinned widely. "Don't worry about it! This'll be great. You'll see."

**

* * *

Part Two: Love Letters**

Dear Orson,

This is supposed to be a love letter. And it is, Orson. You need to know that. It's an honest, impossible, heartbreaking, loving letter. I know that other people wouldn't see it that way, but that really doesn't matter. All that matters is that you know that I love you. I love you, Orson.

I've been thinking so much lately about how love is measured. Are the big things more important than the small things or vice versa? Or is it all important? Or none of it? I love you because you always squeeze the toothpaste from the bottom of the tube. I love you because you're witty. I love you because you know five different ways to fold napkins. I love you because you're kind. I love you because you're a good father. I love you because you helped reunite me with my son. I love you because you can cook.

I love you because you saved me, Orson. You saved me a hundred times over in ways that you'll never even know.

There are too many reasons to count; a long list of infinite ways that I love you. But love doesn't make a marriage, Orson. I've learned that the hard way already.

We haven't even been married two years and I can't count the number of times I've questioned our relationship. With every lie and confession and apology, I wonder if this is worth it; if we did the right thing by getting married or if we went too fast. Marriage isn't easy to begin with and if I can't trust you then I don't know how we can possibly make this work. That's why I can't let you back in this house unless you agree to go to the police and tell them what you did. It will be a fresh start for us; a palate clean of deceit and hurt; one from which I can learn to trust you again.

I promise to love you and stand by you and wait for you, Orson; however long it takes. I don't want this to be an ultimatum, but something that you see as a foundation for our marriage. The reason we can rebuild from the wreckage is only because we love each other. Remember that, please.

All my love,

Bree

* * *

Hey Carlos, it's me, Gaby…Wow, that sounds like the beginning of a message I'm leaving on the answering machine. A love letter shouldn't sound like that. Except this isn't really a letter, is it? Am I ruining this? Are you laughing at me? Should I start over? I'm not very good at this.

Well, I guess the important thing is to say that I love you. That's what people do in love letters, right? I'm a virgin here, so cut me some slack.

Okay, seriously? Carlos, you are an absolutely amazing man; one who I want to spend every day of the rest of my life with. No one loves me the way you do; no one makes me feel as pretty or funny or charming as you do. And that's because you're sweet and caring and wonderful. Everything I am and everything I will be is because of you. And…Well…I could never have gotten through the past year without you and I promise that I will never let you go again. I love you, Carlos. I really, really love you.

Jeez…How do you shut this damn thing off?

* * *

Dear Tom,

I know I'm not very good at expressing my feelings. A lot of people would laugh at that statement, you know, but saying what I'm thinking isn't the same as saying how I feel—you're one of the few people who knows or cares about the distinction. So this letter is probably going to be a bit of a surprising find…And maybe that's okay. Maybe it will make you smile. That would be enough for me, because you haven't been smiling nearly enough lately.

Every day that I wake up next to you is a day that has some good in it. No one has ever been able to brighten my moods like you; been able to chase away the darkness and fill me with hope. But you always take the time to make me smile or laugh or see something positive in a world that has so often been filled with sadness.

You are the best thing that has ever happened to me. The only person who has ever wholly owned my heart. My lover. My husband. The father of my children. My best friend. And I'm still amazed every day to think that you chose to be with me forever.

Quite simply, I'm completely in love with you, Tom Scavo.

Yours always,

Lynette

**

* * *

Part Three: Responses**

My Dearest Bree,

I would walk to the end of the earth for you. I would find a way to fly to the moon. I would wear brown shoes with black socks if you asked me to. But none of that would win me your trust, would it?

I'm scared, Bree. Not just of jail and all of its horrid implications, but of being apart from you and from Benjamin. Time is a fickle mistress and one who I fear will not be kind to us. I spent my whole life waiting to find you; the thought of spending another moment of it apart from you is nearly too much to bear. These are the thoughts that have weighed so heavily on my mind; the ones that still plague me now, even with the words I am about to write.

I trust you, even if you don't trust me. And that made me realize that you're right. It's not fair for me to take everything from you and give you nothing in return. If we're going to make this work then you have to believe in me like I always have believed in you. If atoning for my crime is the only way for that to happen, well, then I'll accept the punishment with all of the grace I can muster.

I know that you'll wait for me, Bree. And I can only hope and pray that it's enough to sustain us. That and—as you said so eloquently—love. Because I love you too, darling; as everlasting as the stars above us.

With everything I ever was, am and will be, I remain yours faithfully,

Orson

* * *

My Beautiful Gabrielle,

You make me smile. You make me laugh. You make me scream. You make me cry. You make me love you more and more every day.

I'm sorry to say that I'm not any better at this than you are, although maybe that just evens the playing field for once. Is it enough to say that I love you? Because I do, Gaby. Enough to sit here writing a love letter when I never thought I would. Enough to stay by your side for as long as I live. Enough to make the bed every morning because I know how much you hate to (or almost every morning, at least).

Now that I can't see you—see the love in your eyes or in your smile or in the warmth of you face— please know that you can never say the words to me enough for me to be satisfied. Every time you say it is like the first time all over again. Every time I hear it, you fill my heart with joy.

I love you, Gaby. It's just another of the million times I'll say it, but I hope that it still means something.

Love,

Carlos

* * *

Dear Lynette,

When you smile, I smile…It's that simplistic. All I've ever wanted was to make you happy and any time I even suspect that I've succeeded it makes me the happiest man on earth. In that spirit—because I know that being right makes you ecstatic—when I found your letter I grinned from ear to ear.

Marrying you is the best decision I've ever made and not one day goes by that I don't think that. There was nothing before I met you that wasn't made better by having you in my life. I'm the man I am today because of you and your love for me. I'll never know what I did to deserve you, but I'm so glad that you chose me.

You are my whole world, beautiful.

I love you so much,

Tom

**

* * *

Part Four: Susan's Triumph**

"Uh-huh. Yep. No problem. Sure, I'll talk to you tomorrow. Night." As Susan hung up the phone, Mike grabbed her hips and pulled her onto the bed, laughing as she giggled and squealed in delight. She curled into him, laying her head on his chest and running her fingers languidly up and down his arm, never so contented as she was in his embrace.

"Who was that?" he asked, kissing the top of her head.

"Gaby. She called to thank me. Said she's going to get a copy of the book tomorrow."

"So that makes all three of them."

"Yep," said Susan, grinning. She lifted her head and kissed her husband. "I told them that book was a good idea."

"How could they doubt you?" teased Mike. "No one knows romance like you do."

Susan just shook her head and kissed Mike again. "You know," she said mischievously, "I think maybe we should try out one of the sex suggestions tonight."

"And you're a mind reader too!"

"Oh, just shut up and kiss me."

Mike laughed, but didn't argue as he rolled over and pressed her back into the bed. "Now that's romantic," he said softly.


	2. Beauty

**Disclaimer: **I have absolutely no connection with _Desperate Housewives_. I just need something to entertain me in the long summer hiatus.

**A/n: **I've had the idea for this one for ages and I finally forced myself to find the words to express it. I hope you all enjoy this.

**Chapter Summary: **Justin and Bree talk about Andrew. Set toward the end of season 2.

**One Hundred Love Stories**

By **Ryeloza**

**Two: Beauty**

Though Justin had been invited over to the Van de Kamps' on more than one occasion now, he still felt like a most unwelcome stalker as he walked down the sidewalk of Wisteria Lane. The well-kept beauty of the suburbs generally had an unfriendly feel—look, don't touch—and there was no home worse than the Van de Kamps'. Justin wasn't sure if this was because it was the most unnaturally beautiful place he'd ever seen, or because up until a few weeks ago, Mrs. Van de Kamp had looked at him as though he was a boil on her son's back. Whatever the reason, Justin dragged his feet as he approached Andrew's front door and reluctantly rang the doorbell.

Someday, Justin was going to move far away from the suburbs. He'd been saving every cent he made for over a year now; each paycheck got him one step closer to buying his boat. His freedom. Just him and the ocean and a life free from the mundane expectations of society. Andrew didn't see the appeal, but, then, Andrew was too wild to be confined.

The door opened and Justin straightened to attention, clasping his hands behind his back and trying to look angelic. "Hello, Mrs. Van de Kamp," he said, trying not to wince as her expression went from curious to disdainful to guilty in less than five seconds. "Is Andrew home?"

"Justin…" She sighed, glanced out to the street behind him, and then stepped aside. "You better come inside."

Justin raised an eyebrow, but simply did as she bade, following her into the living room and taking a seat on the couch at her indication. She remained standing, running her hands over her skirt in a nervous manner, and said, "Would you like something to drink? I just made lemonade."

"No, thanks." He rubbed his hands over his knees, trying to wipe the sweat from his palms. "Is Andrew here?"

Mrs. Van de Kamp pressed her lips together and sat down opposite him. "Justin…" She hesitated, obviously considering her words. "Andrew is…gone."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean I kicked him out."

Justin balked for a moment. Andrew had talked time and again of running away; of gaining independence from his mother. The way he spoke made it seem like she was keeping him captive. When she'd approached Justin in the hope of allying to keep Andrew from leaving with his grandparents, Justin had assumed she truly couldn't bear to let Andrew go. She loved him. He thought she loved him. This…This just made no sense.

"Why?" he finally managed to ask.

"Because I couldn't fight him anymore. I don't…I don't know how well you knew Andrew—"

"I love him, Mrs. Van de Kamp," he interrupted.

"Yes, well…" She smiled sadly. "Then maybe you do know. Andrew was just so angry and hateful. We were just deadlocked in this war. And I just wasn't…I wasn't strong enough to battle him anymore. I couldn't do it."

"So you just kicked him out?"

"I didn't know what else to do. He was out of control."

Justin swallowed hard. "But that's the most beautiful thing about Andrew."

"What?"

"He's untamable. That's a beautiful thing." He sighed, unsure why he was trying to explain the loveliness of the uncontrollable to a woman who was so controlled that she could talk about kicking out her son as though she didn't feel a scrap of emotion. She just couldn't understand. Andrew was one of those rare people who burned so hot and bright that no one would ever be able to douse his flame. He'd simply spread—causing destruction, yes—but also lighting the world with an unspeakable beauty. It was excruciating to be around him, but Justin feared that it would be even worse to be without him.

"Justin," Mrs. Van de Kamp said pityingly. He knew that she thought he was being naïve, but in light of everything else he could hardly take offense. "If you only knew the things he had done. Not only to me, but to you…"

Justin shrugged. "I can imagine, Mrs. Van de Kamp. I know that Andrew was never going to really be mine. He's never going to belong to anyone. Not completely. But that doesn't mean I love him any less."

Mrs. Van de Kamp stared at him, her face as unreadable as always. Justin shook his head sadly and stood, unable to bear being trapped in this house any longer. He wouldn't return; he knew that already. There was nothing to do now but to move on and see what other exquisite things the world had to offer.

"Goodbye, Mrs. Van de Kamp," he said quietly. "I hope for your sake that he comes back some day."


End file.
